The Superheroine Impersonation Incentive
by MissLaurenV
Summary: Who would have known playing a little hard to get would drive Dr Sheldon Cooper so wild? After a scathing fight over Sheldon's drunken swat at her round behind, Amy decides that a certain comic book event may be the perfect place to give Sheldon a taste of his own medicine…
1. Chapter 1

**The Superheroine Impersonation Incentive**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own nor do I profit from The Big Bang Theory or any of its related characters.  
_Author's Note: _I have had this idea floating around in my head for quite some time, and was just desperate to write it up. This will be what I'm going to dub a 'mini-fic'—probably only 3-5 chapters long. It's written for a bit of fun, and some serious smut…so heed the rating, people!

* * *

**Chapter One **

It was like staring at the sun for too long; his eyes searing under the unrelenting heat as bright spots blinded his vision. It was like admiring a Goddess, set solid in perfectly sculpted marble for all eternity. It was like gazing upon an angel, fallen tragically from the heavens above.

Long, pearly legs exposed for all to see. Blue silk, enveloping every curve. Deep, harshly cropped hair cutting at the skin of her neck.

_Eyes_. Usually an entrancing emerald, now blank. Mysterious, white eyes, separated by a single blood red slit.

He was wrong—she wasn't the sun, or a Goddess, or an angel.

She was the daughter of a demon.

* * *

_**Two Days Earlier**_

If he had to take another moment of their incessant tomfoolery, he feared he may burst.

"So let me see if I've got this straight," Raj was saying, an open _Hulk _comic book splayed between his animated hands, long forgotten, "Sheldon stands up, tells Amy she's _great_, and then slaps her on the ass and tells her to fetch more beer?"

Howard nodded, leafing through the stand of comics in front of them. "Cross my heart and hope to die," he said with a grin. "Poor girl hobbled away like she wouldn't be able to sit for a week!"

Sheldon felt the very tips of his ears heat up and he glared at the scrawny engineer. "Amy's ability to seat herself comfortably was not hindered by my—" he ground his teeth as he searched desperately for the right word "—_contact_ with her buttocks."

Drawing up his eyebrows at him with a snide smirk, Howard promptly cupped his own behind with both hands and slunk away, shoulders slumped. "Oh, _Sheldon_…" he whimpered teasingly, eliciting a snort of laughter from both Leonard and Raj. When he spun back to them, hands on his narrow hips, he shot Sheldon a nod of approval. "Didn't know you had it in ya, big guy."

"Give him a break," Leonard said from beside him. "It was _your _father-in-law that got him drunk, and I'm sure Amy wouldn't have minded…"

Sheldon pursed his lips and tugged his satchel tighter across his torso. If it wasn't already bad enough that his brilliant eidetic mind—intoxicated to near incapacitation that very Thanksgiving evening—was forcing him to relive the monumental error he had made time and time again, suffering the constant torture from his friends most certainly was. _Breathe, _he reminded himself calmly, _these buffoons don't know what they're harping on about. _

"I don't know," Raj said, frowning. "She may have found it to be a little disrespectful, I'll ask her next Girls' Night—which reminds me, objectifying women is not cool, dude, even if you are drunk."

_Breathe, _he commanded of himself, eyes clenched shut. _So you lost a little control; allowed yourself to be led by societal expectations…and smacked your girlfriend's bottom into next century…_

Leonard scoffed. "Sheldon was hardly _objectifying _anyone," he said. "I doubt he would even know _how, _anyway…"

_Breathe. And don't dare think about Amy's soft rear end, bouncing back firmly against your hand._

Howard's voice leapt into song. "_Her body too bootylicious for you Sheldon…"_

_Don't dare think about how she jumped under your touch, and slunk off with _that _look on her face…_

"Trouble in paradise I hear, Sheldon?"

"Enough!" he bellowed, no longer able to handle the enormous amount of pressure building behind his eyes. Not even days had passed by, not a single word had been spoken by his girlfriend about the incident, and yet it was simply _too much _to tolerate. "I will not hear another word of this from the three of you, are we clear?"

His three friends gaped at him, motionless, and Stuart—who was now standing nearby; the source of the most recent query—held his hands up in surrender. "My psychologist says confrontation is bad for my anxiety..."

"We're sorry, Sheldon," Leonard said after a moment, inching carefully closer. "Not another word out of us, promise."

"Sorry, Sheldon."

"Yeah, our bad, dude."

He unclenched his fingers from the now-crumpled comic book in his possession and let out a taut breath. "Thank you," he said stiffly, and resumed riffling through the stand. It was unlike him to blow up under such tension, but no amount of Kohlinar or string theory seemed to quell the beast that had been slicing at his insides since the nightmare had occurred the week prior. It seemed that—unlike so many other instances throughout the past three years—he couldn't gain complete control over the direction of his thoughts, and within no time had to reel in a whole host of visions frolicking amongst the baser corners of his mind. It was simply maddening.

Stuart cleared his throat alongside him, fidgeting his hunched body. "Well, this was fun," he said, and Sheldon couldn't decipher whether he was using sarcasm or simply enjoyed the torture, "I have a request to ask of you all—a favour, you might say…"

Sheldon didn't raise his eyes from the cartoon strip he was busily examining. "Requests require a minimum of four weeks written notice, upon which they will most likely be declined," he said coolly. "Favours are considered on a case-by-case basis, provided sufficient warning is given, though also typically declined given their fruitless nature."

"Happy to, Stuart," Leonard said, dismissing him completely, "what do you need?"

"If this is about the _Grease _sing-along next Friday night, I already told you, I'm taking Howard," Raj said apologetically, and Sheldon almost smiled vindictively as Howard shot him a pained expression. "First, we're going to this cute diner in downtown Hollywood, and we'll share milkshakes just like Danny and Sandy, and then—"

Howard elbowed him in the ribs. "I don't think Stuart needs all the gory details," he said, and looked pleadingly at Stuart. "Please, _please _tell us about this favour."

Stuart shuffled on his feet. "Well, there's this official dinner this Saturday night, organised specifically for comic book store owners and their friends," he looked at them uncomfortably, darting his wide eyes about. "Keyword being _friends_, of which I have none."

Leonard, the hero as always, jumped to attention. "We're your friends, Stuart—of course we'll come—"

"Is the dinner going to feature any prominent guest speakers?" Sheldon quickly countered, folding his arms over his chest. "All expenses paid? Close to home?"

"It's in a conference room at The Hilton in Pasadena," Stuart said uneasily. "And you would incur a minimal cost for your meals…"

"Of?"

"Forty-five dollars per head, but—"

Sheldon snatched up the collection of comics he was buying for the week and headed toward the counter. "Sorry, Stuart, no deal," he said. "I will, however, ensure that your business is thoroughly supported by purchasing these three comic books at a discounted price—"

"Len Wein is going to be there," Stuart interrupted. Sheldon looked back at him over his shoulder, interest peaked.

Howard let out a small gasp. "_The _Len Wein?"

"As in the _creator _of Wolverine?" Leonard added, clutching his hands to his chest excitedly. "_Swamp Thing_?"

Raj all but tackled Sheldon at the counter, pawing at him. "_Please, _Sheldon—this is the man whose brilliant work touched almost every comic book in the 70s and 80s!"

Sheldon rolled his eyes. "Thank you, gentlemen—I am well aware of who Len Wein is," his gaze honed in on Stuart, who was looking more and more sickeningly hopeful. "Do we get to dress up?"

It surprised him when Stuart laughed, following him across to the counter. "What kind of comic book event would it be if we couldn't throw on our favourite costumes and turn ourselves into the laughing stock of Pasadena?"

"Alright," Sheldon said after a moment of consideration, "but we _coordinate _outfits—I will not have a repeat of Comic Con 2007…"

Leonard joined him at the counter, and slapped down a pile of books next to Sheldon's. "Come on, Sheldon—if you had just _agreed_ to let somebody else be _The Flash _we never would have gotten into that mess—"

But Sheldon couldn't bring himself to listen. Instead, he was staring at the voluptuous bosom and hips of _Wonder Woman_, in a teensy outfit that would make even the most stoic of men sweat. He swallowed and diverted his gaze elsewhere; trying desperately to disregard the roundness of her backside…_just like Amy's_…

There were suddenly a set of fingers clicking in front of his eyes. "Sheldon? _Sheldon_?" Howard shook his head. "I think we're going to need a reboot…"

He blinked and scowled at the chortling men surrounding him. Perhaps Wolowitz was right—perhaps he _did _need a reboot…

Leonard handed over enough money to Stuart—who had magically appeared behind the counter—to cover both his and Sheldon's comic book, and smiled at him knowingly. "I think he's going to need more than a reboot…"

"Maybe," Howard said, and slapped him hard on the shoulder. "Welcome to the world of women, Dr Cooper."

Sheldon opened his mouth to send him a scathing remark, but found his mouth bobbing up and down like a goldfish, unable to formulate a sentence and instead scurrying to keep up with his friends.

They were almost out the door when Stuart spoke again hesitantly. "Speaking of women, dates are welcome," he said, shrugging. "You could all bring your girlfriends; make a real night of it."

"_Girlfriends?_" Raj whined instantly, and threw himself against the doorframe dramatically. "You _know_ I don't have a girlfriend—why would you pull at that particularly painful heartstring?"

Leonard scrunched his nose. "Yeah, in our experience, women and comic books don't mix," he said. "Sorry."

"Well, I don't know," Howard said, before Sheldon could agree and usher them outside into the balmy California evening. "Bernie would love to dress up and come along, and I'm sure Penny and Amy would, too?" He waggled his eyebrows at Leonard. "Think about it: Penny as Black Widow, clad in some skimpy black Lycra…"

"I don't know whether to be concerned about the fact that _you're _thinking about my girlfriend dressing up as one of the most risqué superheroines in comic book history, or whether to be aroused by the idea of it," Leonard commented, looking uncertain. After a moment of consideration, he shrugged. "I don't see why not—so long as they're up for it…"

Sheldon shoved his best friend in the back and forced the group out the door. "Goodbye, Stuart," he called, waving to the confused store owner and steering them down the footpath. When they were within a considerable distance of the shopfront, he turned on them. "_Not _going to happen."

"Come on, Sheldon," Leonard said, moving past him to unlock his car parked against the curb. "You were there that night when we overheard them arguing about comic books—who knows, they may love it…"

Raj wrenched open the back door and flung himself in sulkily. "Well, on this rare occasion, I agree with Sheldon," he said shortly, "no _girls_…"

"I know what this is about," Howard said suddenly, pointing a finger at Sheldon's chest. "You can't handle the thought of Amy dressed up in costume—all that _skin _and figure-hugging clothing just sends you mad!" He nodded, smirking. "Yeah, that's it—Sheldon Cooper is being deeply affected by a _woman_!"

_The world is about to end, _Sheldon thought briefly, _because the engineer has been right _twice _today… _"I can assure you that I can _handle _Amy in dress up—"

Leonard ducked into the driver's seat and started the engine. "I don't know, Sheldon—I walked in on Amy dressed up as a certain Star Fleet nurse and you didn't look like you were handling it so well—"

"And _who said_," Sheldon continued, sliding into the passenger seat and ignoring Leonard completely, "I wasn't already being affected by her anyway?" He instantly felt his stomach drop at his poor choice of words. "I mean—"

Howard let out a hoot from the back seat. "He's a goner!"

Bundling his satchel against him, Sheldon huffed. "Fine—I will prove to you quickly and effectually that I most certainly am _not _falling into the meagre web of lust that you simpletons find yourselves stuck in every day," he glowered out the window. "Dr Sheldon Cooper will _not _be another of the spider's victims."

"Alright then—I'll ask Penny tonight," Leonard said finally, as they pulled away. "You'll ask Bernadette, Howard?"

"Yep."

"What about _me_?"

"You can bring Cinnamon, Raj, you'll be fine."

The pouting astrophysicist rolled his eyes. "Howard, I _highly _doubt that The Hilton is _dog friendly_—"

"If they'll let you get in then I'm sure she'll be allowed in, too—"

"_Hey!_"

Sheldon zoned the bickering men out completely and stared out the window. There was no doubt about it—he could handle one night of potentially racy costuming and larger amounts of exposed skin. It was simple; there wasn't a thing to be worried about. Not one thing.

_Except for that behind—_

"Am I still dropping you off at Amy's, Sheldon?" Leonard asked him, and he ducked his head as he felt colour flame his cheeks at his wayward thoughts. "Didn't you guys agree to a partial date night tonight?"

It took him a moment to gather his mind. "Uh," he began, and noticed Leonard's eyes dart across to him concernedly. "Yes, if you could drop me at her apartment that would be appreciated."

"Oh, good," Howard piped from the seat behind him, his fingers grasping the headrest as he leant forward. "You can ask her, too." Sheldon waited, braced for another unamusing jab at his expense. "If you're lucky, she may choose to go as _Supergirl_—with a skirt that short, you'd get a nice view of her—"

"_Stop_," Sheldon growled, and heard Howard stifle a laugh. "I will not refrain from injuring your frail body; mark my words—"

"Okay, okay," Howard mumbled in surrender, and threw himself back into the seat. "Jeez…"

Clenching his jaw, Sheldon turned his attention back to the dark lights whirring by him out the window. This was simple; there wasn't a thing to be worried about. Not one thing. He could handle this.

Right?

* * *

Amy had endured a positively _feral _day.

Firstly, she had overslept by half an hour—cursing her alarm clock with some choice words that would have made Penny proud—and was forced to race about her apartment like a lunatic with the hope that she wouldn't be _too _late for work. When she arrived, not only did she receive the cold shoulder from her superior due to her tardiness, but the cheeky primate with whom she was dealing had escaped from his cage and was running rampant in her lab. Luckily, the door had been closed overnight—but it hadn't stopped the monkey from leaping about wildly, sending experiments and paperwork flying and smashing expensive equipment. Her workspace had resembled a bomb shelter, and she had sliced her hand quite decently on a beaker as she snatched for the little rascal who had caused so much trouble. It ached—as did her head—and when she arrived home late that evening, she had wanted nothing more than to head straight to bed.

That plan, however, was futile, she mused as she plugged her phone into its charger and boiled the kettle for a cup of tea. Much to her delight—even in spite of her average day—Sheldon was due to arrive at any moment for their shorter-than-average Date Night. The restricted evening had been agreed upon when Amy had requested they increase their dates to once a week—a considerable leap from once a month—and Sheldon had begrudgingly settled upon a weekly soiree that would take place _after _he had attended the comic book store.

Amy felt content with the arrangement, though countered with the argument that they _already _saw each other almost every day, and simply calling an evening spent together a 'Date Night' changed very little else.

_Very little, _she thought with a frown, and filled her mug to the brim. The tea bag bled colour into the scorching water, and she blew the steam away as she stirred lazily. It wasn't like their Date Nights were suddenly going to include a whole host of physical contact and ardent words whispered longingly to one another. She would be lucky, on occasion, if he spoke to her at all.

_No matter, _she smiled, as a sting to her backside tingled out of nowhere, _we're certainly getting somewhere…_

It was true—yet again, her lanky bundle of phobia-ridden joy had spanked her across the bottom without prompt, on Thanksgiving nonetheless. Amy could conclusively say that she was thankful—for Mr Rostenkowski, one too many beers, and the sudden onslaught of testosterone that had flooded Sheldon's glorious body.

Of course, she wasn't so transparent and her gratitude was somewhat in jest. The sharp connection of his palm against her rear had been stimulating—no question there—but the reasoning behind it concerned her, as it would any compassionate girlfriend. Whilst it was a triumph that her boyfriend had begun delve into some of the deeper, darker secrets he held buried with his father, there was also a hint of regression in his need to do so with a mouthful of alcohol and condescending words. Upon requesting her to 'fetch' him another beer, she had a choice: reprimand him for his actions—learnt presumably from an unhealthy childhood environment—or continue to nurture the uncertain side of himself that was slowly growing—regardless of the questionable circumstances.

Because she _understood _Sheldon's psychological troubles on a higher level than those around her—and, truth be told, because the slap had felt _so damn good_—she had chosen the latter.

It was a game of patience as always, really—and whilst she struggled terribly in certain areas, she excelled in others. On occasion, her hind brain took over and her desires slipped out, but on the whole, she knew she would get nowhere if it weren't for subtle progressions like the one she had experienced on Thanksgiving night.

She cupped her hot beverage between her palms and planted herself on her couch, eagerly awaiting the melodic sound of Sheldon's signature knock on her door. The bandage wrapped firmly around her hand began to warm up, reminding her of the raw gash burning below it. "Ouch," she hissed, and wriggled her fingers gently. "Stupid monkey…"

A familiar set of knocks sounded at her apartment door, followed by her name. She stole a quick glance at her watch as she shuffled over to the doorway and grinned—not a moment after eight o'clock. "Sheldon," she said brightly, taking in his handsome features and perfectly combed hair, "please, come in."

"Thank you," he said, and moved over the threshold. Instantly, he frowned, eyes fixed on her hand. "Amy, what happened to your hand?"

She sighed and closed the door, moving across to the couch once again. "A tiresome feat involving a malfunctioning alarm clock, a mischievous monkey and a smashed beaker," she told him, and he took a seat beside her, hands poised on his knees. "Can I get you a beverage?"

"No," he said curtly, his usual manners gone as he stared at the bandage. "I think I should examine the injury."

"Sheldon," she said with a smile, taking another sip of her tea, "you can't stand the sight of your _own _blood, let alone mine." He pursed his lips, and she gave him a reaffirming nod. "I can assure you that it's fine."

He narrowed his eyes, and peeled away his windbreaker to settle it next to his satchel on the floor. "If it's so _fine _then why do you continue to favour your left hand over your injured dominant one?" He pointed at her accusingly and got to his feet, sleeves pushed back. "I insist that I take a look."

"That is truly unnecessary—"

"Relationship Agreement, Section Four: Booboos and Ouchies," he rattled off from behind her, and she craned her neck to see him rinsing out a wash cloth. "It is my responsibility to inspect the wound." He returned, looking perhaps a little apprehensive. "Your judgement may have been impaired due to pain and blood loss."

Amy rolled her eyes. "I highly doubt that my judgement was impaired from a simple cut—oh!" She jumped as he jerked her wrist out between them, carefully unravelling the bandage until it ribboned in his lap. He held her hand steadily, moving his thumb across the underside of her wrist somewhat comfortingly, and sucked in a breath of air as he scrutinized the angry cut. The mere feel of his cool fingertips was enough to send her into a frenzy, and she began to tug it away. "Sheldon, it's fine—"

When he spoke, it was strained. "I disagree," he said, and she finally looked up at his face—pasty skin with a slight green tinge. "This may require stitches—"

"I've had it looked at by one of the nurses on staff and she insisted it did not require a single stitch," she said, and noticed his grip had tightened. "I can see that this is making you uncomfortable—let me wrap it back up and we can get on with our evening."

This time, as she tried to gently extract her aching hand from his touch, he pulled it in closer to his chest, and—in turn—drew her closer. The movement sent a jab of pain searing through her hand and she gasped. "Are you alr—"

The question was chopped off before he could complete it as their gazes locked. It became very evident, very quickly, that Sheldon had absolutely no idea just how _close _they were—knees knocking together and her arm strewn across his lap and up the length of his chest. Mere _inches _separated their faces, and Amy could feel his laboured breath hitting her cheek. Brilliantly blue eyes stared widely back at her, frozen, and she watched as the lump rose and fell in his throat. "I didn't mean to…" he started, and Amy felt herself instinctually lean forward slightly. He wasn't moving, not even an inch, and she noticed his tongue dart out across his bottom lip. _So close…_

Not close enough—before she could connect with those beckoning lips, the moment was broken by a droplet of blood sliding down the length of her palm and onto Sheldon's shirt. He immediately dropped her hand and swayed woozily on the spot. "Oh my…" he said, and before Amy could reach out to steady him, he had bolted for her bathroom.

She sat, exhaling deeply in his absence, and closed her eyes. _Patience_, she willed herself,_ patience is key…_

"Sheldon, are you alright?" she called, and willed her body to go after him and ensure his safety. It wouldn't budge, and she settled instead for applying pressure to the oozing wound and listening for either the thud of a passed-out body or retching into her toilet bowl.

"I'm fine," he replied, and she could hear the faint sound of the faucet running. "I wasn't…expecting that." There was a clunk of cupboard doors and he groaned. "Where on earth is your stain remover?"

Amy began to bandage her hand once more. "Just use cold water and soap, it will budge the blood no trouble," she told him. "Perhaps you should sit down, Sheldon—"

He reappeared in the doorway, his previously ashen cheeks now blotchy with redness and his t-shirt damp. "Ridiculous," he growled, glaring at her. "You injure yourself, forcing me to ensure your safety whilst compromising my own—"

"I did not _force _you—"

"You get blood _all over _one of my favourite Wednesday t-shirts—_Batman, _nonetheless—and I almost faint on your bathroom floor for the trouble! _Then _you go ahead and tell me you don't have any stain remover, and what should I use instead? _Dish soap!_"

Amy shook her head, attempting to gather her jumbled thoughts. "I'm sorry, Sheldon, I didn't mean to—"

Apparently, he wasn't finished. "I can't continue to endure these…these _moments _with you!" he yelped finally, his hands fisted at his sides. "All it takes is for one of us to lose control of our faculties and we wind up in this…this _mess!_"

"Hold on," she said, rising from her spot on the couch, half-wrapped bandage forgotten and dangling lamely from her hand, "this is about Thanksgiving, isn't it? Sheldon, if you have a problem, we need to talk about it—"

Sheldon's mouth bobbed open and closed like a goldfish. "I didn't say—you can't—this has nothing to do with—"

"We are adults in a consenting relationship—there is nothing wrong with talking about what happened," Amy told him, moving closer to his rattled form. "You acted upon your instincts—you're not the only one who experiences unbridled desire and emotion whilst intoxicated—I certainly have, you know that—"

The mention of the inebriated kiss she had planted on him—one she desperately wished she could recall from three years prior—seemed to give Sheldon some sort of out, and he began to nod. "Crashed computer," he mumbled, and looked at her. "I want a reboot—none of this has to be spoken about ever again and—"

"_No, _Sheldon," she shook her head. "I've done that once, I won't do it again."

He scowled at her, eyes fierce. "You'll allow it for your _own _drunken mishap but not my own? I should have expected double standards—"

"_Mishap_?" Amy retorted, offended by the very notion of their first kiss being labelled a mistake. "I'm sorry that you feel that way, but kissing you definitely was _not _a _mishap _in my mind—in fact, I wish I'd never let you wipe the slate clean in the first place, because I don't regret it."

Sheldon was still, his eyes fixed on her, unblinking. "You don't even _remember _it," he said, and she watched his jaw tighten, evidence that he _certainly _did.

"Sheldon," she sighed, willing herself to be lenient and patient with her man, "there is nothing wrong with admitting that your actions were fuelled by your restrained physical attraction toward me—you slapped my behind because you _wanted _to—"

He reared back as though he had been slapped. "I most assuredly did _not_ swat at your hindquarters out of physical attraction," he said. "What man in his right mind would?"

Two things happened in that next second following Sheldon's unforgiving words: Amy's jaw dropped, acid tears flooding her eyes, and Sheldon's face instantly paled—and from the look on that sorry face, Sheldon Cooper _knew _what he had done wrong, almost before the words came stampeding out of his mouth. "I didn't—not that it's any reflection on your—Amy, I—"

"And what woman," she said cuttingly, closing the space between them as she fought to control the emotion crawling under her skin, "what _right-minded _woman would put up with _you_?"

He gulped, hands raised in surrender, and backed away from her. "Well—clearly you're as _right-minded _as I am," he laughed nervously, and squeaked as she cornered him against the wall.

She could feel the fire churning in her stomach—an angry blend of past taunts from the people around her, the offense of her boyfriend's poorly chosen words, and the desperate battle to retreat and forgive him like she always did. "What woman would willingly stand by whilst her _boyfriend _insulted her appearance?" she continued, edging dangerously into his personal space. "What woman, Sheldon?"

His chest rose and fell rapidly, a flush of colour flaming his neck and face, and he began to slowly move around her, clearly petrified by her outburst. "Amy, you know I didn't mean—think about this logically—the germs—"

"What woman in her _right mind _would continue to be supportive and patient?" she said, her voice raised as she scathingly watched him inch past her.

"That's hardly fair; you've been _far _from patient, on occasion—" he yelped as he bumped awkwardly into her dresser, sending books tumbling to the floor. He continued to unsteadily back away from her raging form, which was rounding the couch and prowling quickly after him.

"What woman in her right mind would?" she said acidly, snatching up his belongings into her arms shakily and tossing them at him. "Not me."

"Amy—"

She raced forward and flung the apartment door open as he was still fumbling with his things. "Out."

"You are being _completely _unreasonable—"

"_Out!_"

This time, her voice broke, and Sheldon stiffened beside her. She refused to make eye contact with him, and stared instead—bleary-eyed—at the doorway across from her own. After a moment of staring at her, he shuffled out the door. "Acting out and being bad-tempered will only make this worse—"

Amy didn't want to hear it, and she began to swing the door closed. _"Goodnight_, Sheldon."

"_No,_" he said, and jammed his foot into the closing door, slamming his fist against it to hold it ajar. Amy could feel herself positively glowering at the man as he huffed and pursed his lips. "Stuart has invited us to a dinner for comic book store owners and their friends this Saturday night—dress-up is mandatory, dates optional," he said quickly, and Amy couldn't bring herself to form words. "Once you've gotten over this little hormonal spat, I expect that you will join me—forty-five dollars per head."

She gaped at him as though he had lost his mind. "What you can _expect _is that you'll be going _alone_," she said, and slammed the door in his face.

_The nerve of that man—how _dare_ he—_

Amy's thoughts ran rampant as she paced her apartment wildly. Tears had crystalised on her cheeks—droplets she hadn't realised had fallen—and the palm of her right hand throbbed from where she had gripped so fiercely in her fury. Her heart thumped harder and faster than it ever had before, and she breathed hard, begging herself to calm down.

"_You are being _completely _unreasonable—"_

Sheldon's drawl in her mind did not aid her recovery from their bitter fight—well, perhaps _her _bitter fight—and she mustered all the strength she had left to haul herself onto a bar stool. _Insulted me and then persisted to tell me he _expected _my presence at some comic book dinner…_

Okay, perhaps he hadn't _directly _insulted her, and perhaps she had been a little unreasonable and overreacted. She knew him well, and she knew his careless comment was—yet again—born from a stubborn attitude and extreme denial. But it had _hurt. _Again.

She cradled her head in her hands and sighed. Tomorrow she would call him—once her red-hot temper had cooled a minutely—and they would make amends. They would go back to the way it was; their recent incident unspoken once more—

A stack of colourful comics—left in her apartment by Sheldon, who had insisted they were a necessity in case his visit to her home were to grow boring—littered across the floor behind her couch caught her eye, and she slipped off her stool to scoop them up. She flicked through the glossy, thin pages, eying the strong superheroines with their ample busts and muscular physiques. One dark, beautiful creature stood out to her, and she paused over the strip, reading every word.

_A hero who must suppress her emotions, or risk the destruction of the world. _

Amy chewed her lip, and nodded down at the shadowed figure, holding the comic tight in her hands.

She would go to the comic book dinner alright, and she would go with a vengeance.

* * *

_Author's Note: _This is going to be fun…don't forget to review, it feeds my soul…


	2. Chapter 2

**The Superheroine Impersonation Incentive**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own nor do I profit from The Big Bang Theory or any of its related characters.  
_Author's Note: _My apologies for the wait time on this chapter—what can I say, it's Christmas time and bloody busy! I am on holidays now, so once Christmas Day has come and gone I should have the entire thing finished within no time. Enjoy, and don't forget to review!

* * *

**Chapter Two**

There was power in this creature, this _fragment _of a human woman she had so seamlessly slipped herself into.

She could barely feel her feet brush the polished concrete beneath her; instead, she floated lithely into the room, where the crowd split for her. Where every eye was drawn to the masked mystery that stood before them. Where he stared her down, relentlessly.

This _power_—it wasn't beauty. It wasn't raw sexuality or even brilliance.

It was that she _finally _had the upper hand, and she was going to use it.

* * *

_**One Day Earlier**_

"Sheldon Lee Cooper, you open up this door _right now_, or I'm going to break it down."

He scowled at the Nebraskan waitress through the length of his bedroom door and folded his long arms tightly over his chest. _Five minutes of peace. _That was all he had asked for.

Well, perhaps he hadn't asked for it—he had _hoped _for it. And with Penny living directly across the hall from his home, as well as being the best friend of his supremely hormonal girlfriend, it appeared that such _hope _had been a rookie mistake.

There was a loud thumping against his door and he huffed. "Penny, your tenacity astounds me—I already told you: there is nothing to discuss," he said, and flicked through the thin pages of Amy's copy of _Neuron _that she had lent him_. Her _copy. _Drat. _"For the last time, return to your apartment and leave me be."

The doorknob jiggled fiercely in response, followed by the suspicious sound of tinkering metal. He launched himself off the bed and wrenched the door open. "Excuse me, do not attempt to _break in _to my bedroom without permission—"

Penny smiled smugly at him and slipped the hairpin back into her tousled hair. "Are you kidding me? I wouldn't have the first clue how to pick a lock—certainly got the desired response though," she slipped past him and folded her arms over her chest. "Now what the hell did you say to Amy?"

"Amy was being completely unreasonable," he said, mirroring her stance and his own sentiment from the night before. "I was only attempting to calmly communicate regarding my recent and rather inappropriate physical contact on Thanksgiving, as is specifically outlined in our Relationship Agreement, Section Eighteen: Conflicts and Troubleshooting—"

"That is _not _what I heard," the blonde said sternly, glaring at him. "Amy said—"

"Oh, _Amy said_," he said mockingly, moving around her to perch himself on the edge of the bed. "Darn you women folk and your sisterhood full of secrets—"

When Penny shifted into his space and towered above him, he quietened, frowning instead at her shoes. "Tell me you didn't say that no man would ever want to slap her on the ass?" she said sternly.

"I didn't say that no man would ever want to 'slap her on the ass'—"

"Oh, _Sheldon!_" Penny scolded, tossing her hands in the air. "Do you know how upset she is? How badly you insulted her by saying something like that?"

He watched her pace back and forward in front of him. "Amy is well aware that my comment wasn't said with the intention of hurting her feelings—"

"Yeah, but it doesn't change the fact that _it kinda did_," Penny said, her voice high and grating. "You need to straighten this out before you lose yourself a girlfriend, and a great one, at that—"

"Lose her?" he said, his neck snapping up to look at her. Amy wasn't going to leave him over such a minor spat—besides, how could she turn away _the _Sheldon Cooper? "I'm not going to lose her."

Penny stared at him, tilting her blonde curls to one side, and shook her head. "What were you thinking, saying something like that to her?" she said, and Sheldon sensed some sort of pity accompanying her frustration toward him. "One minute you're trying to look after her, and the next you're telling her that you wished you'd never touched her in the first place—"

"I'm not going to lose her," he repeated, though he wasn't quite sure why. It was as though, momentarily, there was a scratch on the smooth record surface of his mind, causing the track to jump over and over again. "I'm not."

She sighed, rubbing a manicured hand over her face. "Maybe not," she said, moving for the door, "but if I were you, I'd be getting my facts straight before I lost the _only _woman who would tolerate being in a relationship with me…"

Biting his lip, he stared at the bedroom floor and began to replay their bitter argument. The fierce flush that tainted Amy's cheeks in her anger, the gravel in her voice that only emerged under extreme circumstances, the few lone tears that had escaped past the rim of her glasses…

_And what woman, what _right-minded _woman, would put up with _you_?_

He had mulled it over and over in his mind, in sharp, high-definition that only his eidetic memory would allow, and still could not decipher where he had gone so wrong. Obviously, he understood that what he had said to her had been interpreted as an insult, but he had _tried _to set it right—to remind her that she was, clearly, overreacting to a misconstrued comment. But she hadn't wanted to hear it, not a word, and—somehow—had been sent into a fluster of wild feminine emotion. _Typical. _

"Sheldon," Penny's voice prompted him, and he found her standing with the door ajar, looking at him, "do you even _know _why Amy is so upset?"

His jaw twitched. _No_, _not really_. "Of course I do," he said arrogantly, lifting his chin, "she mistook something I said as a criticism on her appeal toward the opposite sex and, in turn, had a hissy fit." He shrugged. "She's probably on her menses—I should keep track of that to avoid uncomfortable situations such as this…"

For a moment, he wondered if Penny had suddenly grown mute, as she blinked at him and attempted to form a sentence once, and then twice, before huffing at him. "You know what," she said angrily, "the two of you may be perfect for one another, but sometimes, you really do not deserve her—not one bit."

And like that, Penny slammed his bedroom door.

"Well," he stuttered, even though she was presumably long gone, "that's not—I hardly think—Amy deserves—"

He let out a long breath and shook his head. What _did _Amy deserve? A man who didn't accidentally offend her when defending his own pride? A man who didn't feel the need to defend his own pride in the first place? A man who _wanted _to smack her rear, without qualm?

_Come on, Cooper_, something echoed in the back corner of his mind, _it was never the alcohol—you _wanted _to do it._

He ground his teeth at the mere thought, and snatched for his phone as it nearly vibrated off his nightstand. "Preposterous…" he mumbled, and glanced over the message from Raj.

_I hear you're without a date for tomorrow night, and seeing as though Howard and Leonard have confirmed dates, what about we go together?_

Shaking his head, Sheldon quickly typed a reply. _Rajesh, Dr Sheldon Cooper does not require a date—a night with myself is a night well spent._

Barely a moment passed before the next message came in. _Gross, _it said, _and it sounds to me like there may be many nights spent by yourself soon…_

Sheldon eyed the message suspiciously. _How would you know?_

_Two words for you Sheldon: girls and gossip._

_That's three words._

_Fuck off._

He rolled his eyes and didn't bother formulating a response; not for such vulgarity. Instead, he opened up a new message and addressed it to Amy—if he was going to be attending the dinner alone, he needed to know for certain.

_Hello, Amy._

That would do, for the interim. Some simple, polite conversation—something he so obviously excelled at—would remind her of what she was missing out on. Pleased with himself, he gathered up his belongings for his evening shower: fresh underwear, Friday pyjamas, robe, slippers…

"Lose her," he laughed to himself, as he aligned the ankles of his bed socks and folded them neatly together, "she'll come around; see that this was all a big mistake."

He stole a glance at his phone once again—no response. Perhaps another message wouldn't hurt…

_I trust you are well. I am simply looking for confirmation regarding the comic book dinner tomorrow evening. Please let me know if you will be accompanying me._

Straight to the point—perfect. That way he would know in two to five minutes—the average amount of time it took Amy to reply to his text messages; he had timed it himself on numerous occasions for convenience purposes—whether she would be joining him.

He padded down the hallway and into the bathroom, piling his nightwear neatly on the basin edge and turning the water on. As the room began to fill with thick steam, he peeled off his clothes and watch, setting the lot aside. He waited—completely nude—for the water to hit the perfect temperature and checked his watched. Seven minutes and still no message.

Perhaps the situation was far more dire than he had anticipated—perhaps he would need to address what had occurred the night prior to elicit a response. He grabbed his phone from the top of the pile and typed quickly.

_I understand that you are emotional about last night, but don't worry—I have forgiven you. We can carry on as usual with no hard feelings._

_Surely _that would be enough. He dangled his fingertips under the stream and, satisfied with the heat, stepped over the bathtub lip. The scorching water drilled down into his spine, and he ran his hands through his hair to dampen it. A few more moments passed, as he stood and stared at the row of hygiene products lined up alongside him, and _still _no jingle of her ringtone or the reassuring hum of a vibration.

He tore the shower curtain back and roughly dried his hands on the nearby towel, grasping his phone once again. _Amy, _he wrote aggressively, _answer me at once! _

Another three minutes standing in the limbo of cool bathroom air and boiling steam had him sending off another. _Amy!_

This time, the reply was instant, and the moment Sheldon read it, he promptly dropped his phone into the swirling plughole between his feet.

Raj wasn't the only one telling him to—in the most explicit way possible—_begone _that evening.

* * *

"Penny, you can't just go hijacking someone else's phone and sending text messages without permission, it's very rude…"

The waitress grinned wickedly, burying herself deeper into her turquoise couch and tossing her slender ankles onto the coffee table casually. "Oh come on, Ames, he deserved it," she said, swirling the wine in her glass. "_He _has forgiven _you_? I don't think so…"

Amy pursed her lips and stole the phone back from her best friend, mouth agape at the most recent text she had sent off to her flustered boyfriend. "Oh, _Penny!_" she scolded. "You know how Sheldon is with swearing…"

"Relax, he's heard it all before…"

Bernadette cleared her throat and topped up her own wine glass. "I think the point Amy is trying to make is that she can handle it on her own," she said, shooting Penny a stern look.

Waving a hand dismissively, Penny dove for a handful of chocolate from the bowl on the coffee table. "After how he upset my best friend last night, I think she needs all the help she can get."

"I'm right here," Amy said flatly. "And Bernadette's right, I can deal with this on my own."

"I still think you should break up with him," Penny grumbled through a mouthful, "that would show him…"

Amy stared at the bunch of text messages scrawled down the screen of her phone. _Oh I'll show him, you just wait…_

"Are you _sure _you don't want to come with us tomorrow night?" Bernadette asked her, swinging on the brightly coloured arm chair alongside her. "You don't even have to talk to Sheldon—us girls will just sit down one end and chat."

Penny hummed her approval. "Open bar!"

Giving them both a smile, Amy shook her head. "Thank you for attempting to be inclusive, but I have to stand my ground on this particular issue," she said. "It has taken all of my strength not to call him today and set things right, regardless of what happened last night."

"Oh, God," Penny groaned, rolling her eyes. "He was a _jerk _and he's the one who has to set things right, not you."

Bernadette nodded. "He needs to be on his knees begging for your forgiveness."

_Well, _Amy thought, _to his knees is exactly where I plan to bring him._

* * *

_**That Very Day**_

There had been very few occurrences in Sheldon Cooper's life in which a trip to court ended on a positive note.

The first was a sour incident involving his drunken father clocking a barman over the head with an empty beer bottle after losing a poorly made bet. Unfortunately for Sheldon, he had been witness to the pitiful blow—recalling far too much blood and cuss words for the tender age of nine—and was made to testify in front of a judge with a sagging mouth and little comprehension for the concept of antiperspirant deodorant. The second was a misunderstanding regarding a certain Nebraskan waitress' vehicle and a red light on Marengo Avenue; a rescue mission gone awry. That particular feat had earned him an entire afternoon in jail and lost him the opportunity to meet one of his all time favourite comic book legends, Stan Lee.

It seemed, as he sat behind the bench and awaited the judge's booming voice, that this third time around would be no better.

The gallery was bustling with activity—his friends lined up on the wooden benches behind him and babbling gibberishly, reporters filling every square inch of space with their incoherent questions and blinding flashes of their cameras, the jury whispering and pointing accusingly in his direction. The sharp click of the typist's nails hit her typewriter rhythmically, and he felt the desperate urge to cover his ears and scream.

"Sheldon Cooper," the judge's voice echoed, but he could not see the robed man—the mahogany bench was simply _too high_, "your heinous crimes do not go unnoticed by those around you, and are intolerable. You are not exempt. Your punishment will be fitting for such atrocity against both The Girlfriend and yourself."

He tried to argue; tried to defend himself. When he attempted to stand, he found himself cuffed to the bench in front of him. When he looked to his lawyer, poised stiffly beside him, it was his father—holding a coldness in his eyes and a beer in his hand. _No! _He wanted to cry, but the words simply would not leave the confines of his throat. _This is not fair!_

"Guilty," the jury called in unison, made collectively of those around him—his mother, his sister, his boss, his Meemaw. They could see _everything_.

More flashes blinded him; more voices shrieked at him. He shielded his eyes and looked to the judge, but all he saw was the towering bench, reigning over him. "Your penalty," the judge thundered, "is to prove what you know you can no longer deny."

A bailiff—or perhaps a giant, he wasn't so sure—brought Amy to the centre of the courtroom. Her chocolate hair hung in front of her reddened eyes, and she held her arms around her torso as she stared him down. She was left there, passively, and the giant moved for him—and that was when he realised what he was going to have to do. "_No!_" he managed, struggling against his restraints as he was dragged toward her. "_I won't!_"

Every eye was honed in on him then, watching, waiting, and taunting him. The shouts of torment and demand clawed at his insides and morphed into a white noise that had him hearing little else. When he was delivered to Amy's compliant side, she bent over the typist's desk, presenting her round behind to him without qualm.

"Three strikes," the judge rumbled, and he shook, frozen alongside her. "Three strikes and you're out."

Suddenly the crowd around him grew louder, smothering him. _Do it! Prove us wrong! You can't deny this! _They cried. He squeezed his eyes tight and raised his freed right hand. _Can I_?

The first crack of his palm elicited a staccato gasp from her lips. The second, a yelp. The third, and he moaned with her. It didn't matter that they were all watching any more, didn't matter that they could see—he brought his hand down again anyway, and relished the way her knuckles gripped the desk; the way he twitched at the very sight of her pleasure.

"_Enough!_" He heard, the word echoing in waves all around him, and the vision began to spiral. "_Enough!"_

"Enough," he murmured, slapping his hand against something soft as darkness overtook him. "Enough…"

When Sheldon opened his eyes, he was planted firmly under the tight covers of his bed, one hand fiercely gripping the sheets and the other gripping…well, _himself_.

There were very few occurrences in Sheldon Cooper's life where he knew he was in trouble, and this was one of them.

* * *

It was Saturday morning, and Amy had a plan to set in motion. First stop: the comic book store.

She arrived at the glass door to the tiny shopfront and peered inside, hands cupping the glass. It was dimly lit, and the 'Closed' sign was dangling in the window on an angle, but that didn't stop her. Instead, she stood tall, flipped her hair over her shoulders—and promptly flipped it back again—and rapped her knuckles against the glass.

After a moment of shuffling her weight nervously, a dishevelled Stuart swung the door open. "Amy?" he said, and rubbed one squinted eye tiredly. "What are you doing here at—oh, crap, it's nine-thirty—"

"I, uh," she started, and gave him a smile. "I came to see you."

Now, this was a challenge, as flirting was not Amy's domain, and nor did she ever believe it would be. When he frowned uncertainly at her, she fluttered her eyelids in the same way she had seen Penny do to Leonard.

"Came to see _me_?" he said slowly, and then shrugged. "Eh, come on in."

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and sashayed over the threshold, almost losing her balance in the process. "Thank you." _One foot in front of the other, Fowler…_

The instant she made her way inside the shop, she felt claustrophobic, and a little like she were invading his privacy. Whilst the saleable goods were neatly placed as per usual along the walls and counters, a bundle of bedding and clothes sprawled its way across the concrete floor. "I thought you were staying with Raj," she said, attempting a sweet tone.

He turned back to her, a jumper tugged half way over his curly head. "I am," he said, and pursed his lips. "But it was date night for him last night so I thought I'd give him some space…"

Amy couldn't help herself. "Date night? With who?"

"Cinnamon," he said dryly, and held out a bottle of water. "Drink?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you," she said, and leant awkwardly against the counter. "So, Sheldon told me about this function to be held this evening, and I was wondering—"

"If I would help you find a costume that would flatter your figure whilst enticing his strange mind?" he offered, and plonked himself onto the mess of sheets. "Sure, why not."

"No," she said slowly, adjusting her handbag across her shoulder. "I was going to ask if you had a date."

His head snapped up to look at her. "No, why? Know someone crazy enough to date this moneybag right here?"

_Stick out your chest, maybe that'll work… _"Well, _I _would be happy to…" she said, and pouted her lips for extra effect. _Good work! _

Stuart cocked his head and frowned at her. "This may come as a surprise to you," he said, "but the day that Sheldon crashed our date to ask you out and you said yes has kinda stuck with me…"

Amy felt herself begin to lose her cool as he stood to begin opening the shop. "Look, Stuart, I'd really like to go with you—if you wanted to…"

He flicked on the lights and rounded the counter, opening the cash register to count coins. "Is this one of those practical jokes that friends play on one another?" he asked her, and she began to feel guilty. "Because if it is, that's great…means I actually _have _some friends…"

"Okay, look," she said, leaning her palms on the counter and levelling with him. "Sheldon and I had a fight, and even though he upset me he _still _insisted I accompany him to this dinner and so I did a little research into this particular comic book character who—on a psychological level—could teach Sheldon about—"

"Hold on—let me get this straight," he said, folding his arms over his scrawny chest, "you're mad at your boyfriend—who you're still _with_, by the way—and essentially want to teach him a lesson by turning up at a comic book event in a skimpy costume hanging off another man's arm?"

Amy frowned and shook her head. "No, that's not—"

But before she could give any further explanation into the true nature of her well-devised plan, Stuart held out his hand. "I'm in."

Part one, complete. Next step: finding her costume…

* * *

Sheldon Cooper, in a word, was bored.

The idiotically named 'Californian Annual Comic Book Store Owner Evening' had already been dubbed a complete success, with just under two hundred guests swarming the huge conference room in a rainbow of _Supermans_ and _Wonderwomans_. After all of the effort he had gone to in order to arrange his favourite _Wolverine _costume—inspired by the rugged Hugh Jackman fresh out of the first motion picture—he could conclusively say he was disappointed. The space was crowded, there was little else to do other than socialise with the buffoons that called themselves _experts _and eat half-cold appetisers from seedy looking waiters. On top of all that, Stuart was late and—in his well-rounded opinion—it was particularly impolite for the inviter to be later than the invitees.

He scowled and glanced around the room. It was a sea of vibrant colours and laughing voices, speckled by the sparkle of the disco ball hanging centrally overhead. White cloth and silverware donned the table and red velvet curtains hung lifelessly across the stage, framing a podium for their guest speaker—who was, apparently, yet to arrive. Perhaps he should have taken a leaf out of Amy's book and stayed comfortably at home…

"Sheldon," Leonard's voice disrupted his thoughts, peering at him from across the table. "Cheer up, it's not that bad…"

"Yeah," Howard agreed, nodding his green-painted face at him. The engineer had decided to come along as a puny _Hulk, _and looked utterly ridiculous. "We all decided your costume looks the best, anyway."

"Hey!" Penny piped up from beside him, swirling her drink and taping a sip through the straw. "I think Bernadette and I win, by a long shot…"

Sheldon looked over at the leaf-incrusted red-head. "_Poison Ivy _and _Harley Quinn_—the choice of partners-in-crime was a smart one, but I must say that both of the costumes are inaccurate—"

There was a jingle from across the table and he found Bernadette glaring back at him. He refrained from laughing at the petite villain. "Be thankful we even came along, mister," she snapped, and shuffled her jester hat slightly.

"I still think we could have made a fantastic _Batman _and _Robin, _Sheldon," Raj said, and Sheldon groaned at the only other singleton at his table that would _just not let up_. "But _someone _had to be stubborn…"

Sheldon leant back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest, his claws clinking together. "Don't you think it's a little ironic that the only other character you wanted to go as was _Captain America_—"

"Sheldon," Leonard said sternly, giving him _the look _through his Bat-mask. "We all know you're upset about your fight with Amy, but that's no reason to take it out on us—"

He scoffed. "Upset? _I'm _not upset—Amy's upset…"

There was suddenly a deafening blast of music cranked from the speakers on the stage, and he groaned as people began to file their way onto the dance floor. Could this night get any _worse? _

"Come on," he heard Howard say to his wife, "let's get a dance in before the meals come out and we have to sit with _him _again…"

"Yeah, Penny, you want to dance?" Leonard added, and Sheldon rolled his eyes. Monkey see, monkey do…

He began to fold the corners of his napkin and create a paper plane, sulking as he went, but looked up—surprised—when Penny declined. "You go with Raj," she said, patting his arm, "I'm gonna stay with Sheldon."

"Oh, _Raj_—I don't want to go with Raj…"

"What—are you _afraid _Hofstadter?"

Penny giggled as the two men disappeared into the crowd, and he felt her lean into his space slightly. "Here's what's going to happen: you are going to be grateful for coming along to this function, listen to Stan Lee—"

"Penny, Stan Lee isn't coming—"

"_Whoever _is coming," she said impatiently, swishing her ruby wig over her shoulder. "You're going to have a drink, have a dance with me, eat your meal and _stop _being such an ass. I'll help you sort out this mess with Amy tomorrow, promise."

He stared at the condensation dripping down the side of his glass and eventually stole a glance up at her. "Fine," he said meekly. "But I _won't _dance."

She snatched his hand and tugged him roughly to his feet. One of his long claws became hooked up in the shrubbery covering her torso, and she grabbed the sharp plastic. "I think these need to come off—too dangerous for dancing and—"

Her sentence cut short, and he watched curiously as her eyes seemed to cloud over and her mouth fell slightly ajar. He frowned. "And…?" he said, but her gaze didn't shift from whatever was so intriguing over his left shoulder. "_Penny._"

She drew in a sharp breath and grasped his upper arm, turning him roughly in the direction she was gawking. "Look," she managed.

And look he did.

It was a woman—no, it was a _creature, _a Halfling gliding across the floor in what felt like slow motion, splitting the floor as though her very aura would kill every guest within inches. He felt his heart come to a tight halt in his ribcage as she moved seamlessly toward him, cold blue cape splaying behind her. Every step exposed milky white skin through the splits up her shapely thighs, cut to what could nearly be the very top of her hipbones. The blue dress clung to her every curve, sweeping the arc of her waist and swell of her breasts to wrap around her neck. Sharp black hair jutted out from beneath the hood of her cape, which fell well beyond her forehead and shadowed the face of this _mystery _being.

_Never _had Sheldon Cooper eyed a woman with such thirst—and the only one he would ever catch himself yearning for was Amy.

"Oh," he managed to breathe; in the exact moment that she brought her gloved hands to her hood and drew it back. Two entirely white eyes—beautifully alien—framed a tiny red slit marking her forehead, matching perfectly with the bloody colour of her lips.

"God, _Amy_," he heard Penny whisper, and felt his heart begin to thunder, shaking him to the core.

Time continued to move slowly as she passed him, her colourless gaze untraceable—frighteningly, alluringly so. He moved with her, watching her go by, just as every other person did, lingering in her destructive path a moment too long. She was _emotionless_; a puzzle that had to be cracked, at the risk of the entire world.

He wanted her—he wanted the _Raven_—and he would have her.

* * *

_Author's Note_: The fun is just beginning! Well done to those who guessed the right superheroine. Thank you all so, so much for the incredible support and comments on the first chapter...I was overwhelmed! Leave your comments in the big box below if you're enjoying it thus far…


	3. Chapter 3

**The Superheroine Impersonation Incentive**

_Disclaimer_: I do not own nor do I profit from The Big Bang Theory or any of its related characters.  
_Author's Note: _Guess who was incredibly organised and had this written days ago and then discovered that my family's beach house had no internet? Yeah, guilty, sorry guys. Anyway—here is the final chapter! As mentioned, this is a mini-fic, written for some fun…**beware the smut** people as it is rather explicit and heed the rating! Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Three**

_Amy, _he tried to utter, but found the words latching onto his throat. _Don't move another step, because I need to take you away from here…_

What he _wanted _to say didn't matter. His body had taken on a life of its own—every muscle constricting; his skin setting itself aflame; a coil of yearning twisting tightly in his stomach. He was vaguely aware of Penny's needle-like fingers digging into his bicep, and wondered if perhaps it was her voice that was echoing beside him in a hushed tone. _Something about calming down…_

The _Raven _swept by him—so close he could smell the familiar scent of gardenias and spring rain emit from her curvaceous form—and _those _blank eyes gave away nothing; always looking directly ahead. He watched her every move, and struggled to tear his gaze from the length of fair leg peeking out from beneath her dress. The gold belt slung around her waist met with the splits in the fabric—_that_ was much of her was exposed. _For everyone to see_.

Nails bit into the skin of his arm and drew him slightly away from this dream-like world he had entered. "Stuart!" Penny said brightly, though her voice sounded strange. "I see you found yourself a gorgeous date…"

For the first time since her arrival, Sheldon tore his eyes from Amy—who was moving gracefully around the round table, looking for her assigned seat—and looked to the man accompanying her. And there he was—Stuart, dressed as _Beast Boy _of _all _things. The sight of his skinny, green presence only made his jaw lock with what he could only describe as territorial fury—something he had experienced before with the exact same man.

Stuart shrugged, ogling Penny's barely-covered figure. "Oh, yeah…" he agreed loosely, and then looked directly at Sheldon. He smiled nervously. "Hi, Sheldon. Nice costume…"

Sheldon said nothing, and speculated that his blood was actually boiling beneath his veins. _With rage, _he found himself questioning, _or mating lust? _

"Just, uh, give us a second, would you, Stuart?" Penny said, and he shuffled away. Sheldon moved his eye back over to Amy, where she was politely conversing with Stuart and what was presumably a fellow comic book store vendor. He gripped his fists at his sides and felt the long claws graze his thighs. "Sheldon, I had no idea Amy was going to be here—much less here with Stuart—but you've got to calm down..."

Her voice faded into the background as he began to take in the number of men gawking unabashedly at _his Raven_. Some smiled at her awkwardly and looked away—but _some_…some gave her a smile that made him want to beat them to a pulp and whisk her away. _What is _happening _to me?_

Suddenly he was looking at the heavily made-up face of one blonde waitress. "_Sheldon_," she hissed, "what the _hell_?"

He pushed past her—finally willing his frozen limbs to move—and headed straight for Amy. A few short strides and he would make _certain _these scoundrels knew she was his...

But he wasn't fast enough. "_Amy?_" Bernadette squeaked, and rushed over to her. "You're here! And you look…_wow_! Your _eyes…_"

"Nice _Raven _costume! I always loved the _Teen Titans_," Howard said, joining the tiny blonde jester. "And nice going breaking Sheldon."

Inching closer, he managed a glare in Wolowitz's direction. Amy, still and poised, barely reacted. "Thank you."

"Looks like Sheldon isn't the only one you've broken," Leonard added as he took his seat at the table. He jerked his head over his shoulder. "Raj seems to have his mutism back…"

And there was Raj—like all the others—eying Amy with a blush on his cheeks. "Hello…" he said, and blinked several times.

_This will not do. _Sheldon rounded the table to her and grasped her arm. What felt like an electric current zoomed up his fingertips straight to his heart, and she snapped her head to look up at him, as though she had no idea he was even there. "Amy," he said gruffly, surprising even himself when his voice tumbled out deep and gravelly. _Say something else!_

"Hello, Sheldon," she said pleasantly, a hint of a smile passing over her lips. Her tone was calm and detached, and sent shivers down his spine. "I believe it's almost time for meals to be served—"

"_No_," he growled, and still it did not ruffle her. He drew in a shaky breath. "You are—you look—you have violated—"

She unlatched his clawed hand from her arm smoothly. "I assessed the Relationship Agreement at length," she said, "and no where is it specified that one party cannot attend a casual meal with a friend of the opposing sex." Her eyelids fluttered gently over those disturbingly beautiful eyes, darkened with makeup. "I decided to accompany Stuart."

He opened his mouth, and promptly closed it again as he mentally scanned their agreement. _Drat. _She was right. "In any case," he said through clenched teeth, "your attire is not appropriate—entirely too alluring for such an event—"

Her cropped jet-black hair shone blue against the dim lighting. "I am glad you think so," she said aloofly.

Frowning, he watched her closely—standing tall and confident. Usually, such a confession would send her wild. Usually, she would be a bundle of desperate emotion and lust. Usually. But there was nothing _usual _about this evening.

His brilliant mind helped him along. _The Raven—forced to supress her emotions, or risk losing control to the demon within_.

_Dear Lord. _This wasn't _his _Amy that was here tonight. It was the embodiment of the _Raven—_a hero he related to more than he cared to admit.

* * *

If a look could kill, Amy was certain she would be dead ten times over.

Through the disguise of her frosted eyes, she could take in every surly expression that passed over Sheldon's uncharacteristically rugged face with ease. From the moment she had walked through the door, a Pandora's box of emotions had been seemingly unleashed upon her impassive boyfriend—and she had secretly basked in the glow of his untameable reaction. _Score one, Fowler…_

It was odd, though, as she felt nothing like herself this very evening. Every move she had made to turn herself into the half human, half demoness she had become seemed to transform her in ways she didn't know possible. At home, she had tugged the tight fabric over her body self-consciously and expected a disaster; instead, she saw an irresistible, strong woman. She had eyed her pale legs in the mirror and decided that _no_, a pair of sheer tights would not be required on this particular night. She had slipped in a set of clouded contact lenses and combed her black hair and felt like the sexiest woman ever to walk into Sheldon Cooper's life.

But it wasn't just that.

Voiding herself of all emotion and holding her cards close had shot a spark of power and mystery into her. No longer could she be read like a book; no longer would _she _be the one reeking of desperation and desire. She would simply sit, spine tall, and understand what it was to be the _chased_, not the chaser.

A heavy clunk came from across the table as Sheldon fought with Penny about removing his claws to finish his meal. "I am quite capable to wield a knife and fork," he was saying angrily, though his eye did not seem to move from Amy's figure. A napkin became tangled amongst him and almost upended the plate of spaghetti into his lap. "_Now _look what you've done!"

"Uh, Amy?" Stuart said quietly from beside her, grazing her arm. "I'm ninety-eight percent sure that Sheldon wants to tear me to shreds right about now…maybe you two should just kiss and make up…"

Amy turned from her empty plate to face him and gave him a small smile. "Don't worry about Sheldon," she said, and noticed his large eyes wander from her face downward. That had been happening a _lot _this evening. "You just enjoy your night."

"Okay," he squeaked, and pursed his lips as he attempted to look elsewhere. "Like I said in the car earlier…you do look very, uh, nice…your costume is—" He began waving his green-painted hands about theatrically and quickly dropped them to his lap as his eye fell to her hips. "_Accurate…_"

There was a loud throat cleared by none other than Sheldon, and as she stole a glance she noticed that he was positively glowering at the two of them, arms folded tightly over his chest. He was slouched so far into his chair that he almost disappeared into the high collar of his leather jacket—which did look deliciously dashing. "For God's sake, Sheldon," it was Leonard chastising him this time, hissing under his breath, "give it a rest…"

It was lucky that the table was largely filled with other guests and most had not observed his obnoxious behaviour—even their friends were ignoring him. "_Anyway_," Stuart continued beside her, as a waiter leant between them to clear plates, "I was thinking maybe we could hit the dance floor before the guest speaker arrives…at least make a few of these people _think _I have a girlfriend…"

"Sure," Amy said easily, and took his hand as he offered it out to her. One final swish of her hair over her shoulder, and she saw Sheldon's jaw jump.

Oh yes—that look most certainly could kill.

* * *

He was going to _kill_ Stuart.

A snarl erupted from deep in his throat as he glaringly watched them weave into the crowd toward the dance floor. To his complete frustration, the sway of Amy's mesmerising hips sent him into a frenzy, chewing the inside of his cheek to stop himself from launching himself across the table after them.

Whether his savage emotions were kept in check was no longer a concern, and—it seemed—nor was the hot-blooded male he had suddenly morphed into.

Next to him, Penny had finally managed to remove both of the gloves that were encasing his claws from his hands—something he did _not _appreciate. "Up, you poisonous wench," he spat, hauling her to her feet with him. He looked at Leonard. "I am stealing your girlfriend to the dance floor—she has no choice in the matter."

"Okay…?"

Penny argued some, but Sheldon was having none of it and simply dragged her toward the wooden-floored area beneath the stage. There was a dull thunder of socialising and frivolity waffling on around them, and he shook his head at the obscene number of folk _already _half-drunk and up having a dance. Coming to a grinding halt, he loosely placed a hand on Penny's hip and craned his neck. "Bunch of buffoons…ruining a perfectly good evening with dancing and skanky costumes and _betrayal…_"

"Sheldon," Penny said irritably from under his nose, "why don't you just go and _talk _to Amy…tell her you're sorry—"

He twirled them around, looking well above the crowd for the blue figure he had lost so effortlessly. "Did nothing wrong; no apology required," he muttered in reply. _Where _are _you? _

To his surprise, Penny fell silent for a moment. "Alright," she said with a sigh. "But you and I _both _know that Amy's smart—she's got more up her sleeve than just making you jealous so you'd better be ready…"

The thought broke his search and he looked down at her. "No one can outsmart Dr Sheldon Cooper."

"Whatever you say," she said, nodding her fiery head over his shoulder. "Here's your chance to tell her so yourself."

He felt his neck twinge painfully as he spun to look. A blonde man with a dazzling smile and a muscular physique to perfectly fill his _Green Lantern _costume was flirtatiously taking over Amy's hand from Stuart, who had been collared by a short, plump _Wonder Woman_. The green-eyed rascal pulled Amy in—his gloved hand _far _too low for Sheldon's liking—and she simply looked back at him elusively. "Oh no you _don't_…"

Sheldon whirled himself and Penny across the hardwood and promptly deposited the waitress alongside the man who was mere inches from _his _Raven. "She's all yours," he told him, and snatched Amy away before either could argue.

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed, holding her tightly to his chest, which began to pound the instant she was against him.

She looked up at him coolly and suddenly he couldn't remove his gaze from her red lips. "Dancing," she said simply. "Yet another thing that I don't believe is restricted by the Relationship Agreement."

"Not restricted by—what is your aim here, Amy?" he said, feeling a pressure mount within him. "To send me mad?"

She cast her eye over his shoulder and replied evenly. "I didn't realise such an event _could _send you mad, Sheldon."

For the umpteenth time that evening, Sheldon found himself scrambling for words. "You do realise that the front of that dress essentially serves as a flap to cover your—your—"

"My…?"

"Your _nether region_," he near whispered, and then huffed. "Not only that, but the dress is clinging to your chest and completely exposing the shape of your breasts—and here you are, _flirting _with these sleazy men—"

Her eerie eyes snapped back to him. "I would not flirt with men," she said. "I'm sorry if that is how you feel."

This only seemed to fuel the fire burning in his belly. "How does it make _you _feel?" he countered, though entirely unsure of where he was going with such a question.

She shifted the fingers that lay delicately on his shoulder and the very movement made him shiver. "You are a smart man, Dr Cooper," she replied. "And I am certain you know more about the character I am portraying this evening than even I."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Indeed," he agreed warily.

"Therefore I am sure that you are well aware that I must not express emotion," she said, and he thought he saw the ghost of a smirk cross her perfect mouth. "It is a danger to myself and everyone else around me."

A white-hot sensation swept over his entire body as he stared down at the ruby lips that were, ever so slightly, smiling teasingly up at him. They looked luscious and soft and as though _not another word _was going to be given away unless he fought tooth and nail for it.

So, he inched his fingertips down the small of her back to rest at the peak of her backside, and waited. "I see," he said, voice low as he grazed the silky fabric skimming her rear. This time when she looked up at him, those lips were slightly parted. _Oh yes…_

"_Sheldon!_" A voice suddenly screeched, a dishevelled looking Penny appearing in his peripheral vision. "Are you _kidding me? _Do you have _any _idea how many times that sleaze ball tried to cop a feel because _you _traded me off?" She glared at him and tugged Amy away. "Come on, Amy, let's go."

A whip of her deep blue cape, and the two were gone, trailing off into the crowd once more.

This wasn't over, not by a long shot.

* * *

"So what, no heads up? You just cruise on in here with _Stuart _dressed to kill?" Penny nodded approvingly as they came to a roaring halt in the very far corner of the conference room. "Go, Amy, you little minx!"

Despite the injection of confidence administered by her bestie, Amy couldn't seem to grapple with the thump in her chest that had begun after Sheldon's hand had wandered down her spine. Remaining impassive was proving to be more difficult than she had anticipated. "I thought it would be a much more authentic surprise if I didn't let you ladies in on the plan," she said, and shrugged. "Sorry."

Penny tossed her long red wig over her shoulder. "Oh, who cares? I'm just glad you're getting some payback. _Someone's _gone from Dr Shelly to Dr _Jelly_," she grinned. "He can barely control himself."

Amy frowned at her. "I'm not trying to make Sheldon jealous," she said truthfully. "Although it does seem to be producing such a response…"

"Then what _are _you trying to do?" Penny asked. "Because whatever it is, it's working…"

Peering across the wide expanse of the darkened room, Amy spotted Sheldon, who was skulking around their table with a scowl across his handsome features. He looked over in her direction and she whipped the hood of her cape over her head. "This character I'm dressed as, _Raven_, she's half-demon, half-human, and possesses many great powers," she told her. "One of the shortcomings of her superhuman strengths is her connection with her demon father—who can be released to bring suffering to the earth if _Raven _does not control her emotions." Penny cocked her head back at her, so she continued. "She was trained as a child in another dimension to suppress her feelings—it is her weakness, you could say."

Penny nodded slowly, her leafy eyebrows rustling as she did so. "So you're giving Sheldon a taste of his own medicine," she said. "No wonder he's running around like a chicken without a head—I've never seen him so riled up."

"Neither have I," Amy said, peeking out from beneath her hood. Giving up his search, Sheldon ran a hand through his oddly spiked hair and returned to Leonard and the others at the table. "I felt it could be beneficial for him to understand how it feels to be denied an emotional response from someone he is close to—especially when there is a significant stimuli at hand that he wishes to address."

"Patience has never been Sheldon's virtue, robot or not," Penny said, smirking, and pulled her back toward the group. "Ames, this just might work…"

* * *

The dull roar of the attendees, coupled with the basey thud of the music blasting from the speakers on the stage, was giving Sheldon a headache.

That, and the small fact that—since Penny had stolen her away—he couldn't locate Amy. His enticing _Raven _was nowhere to be seen—which could mean she was being mauled by any old Tom, Dick or Harry dressed up in their hideously inaccurate costuming.

"Amy certainly does look sexy this evening, don't you think, Sheldon?" Bernadette chirped from across the table as she sipped on her wine. He stared at her for a moment and turned away, not bothering with a response.

"Oh come on—just because she didn't come with you doesn't give you the right to sulk," Raj said with a grin. "She's still your girlfriend, right?"

"Maybe now's the time to stake your claim," Howard added. "_Wolverine _wouldn't lose out to some scrawny _Beast Boy_…"

Sheldon tightened his fists in his lap and continued to ignore their banter. They were only attempting to get a rise out of him, and he would not give them the satisfaction. _Though Wolowitz is right, _a voice chimed in his head, Wolverine _wouldn't lose out to _anyone_…_

Suddenly Howard slid a stout glass of golden liquid in his direction, holding it out between two fingers. "To sooth your sorrows," he said, and Sheldon took it gingerly. "Drink it, for all of our sakes."

He eyed what was presumably a shot of straight whiskey and downed it in one gulp. The alcohol instantly singed his oesophagus, and he instantly felt his world become slightly fuzzy. _Interesting…_

"Sheldon," Leonard said softly, taking a seat beside him, "are you okay, buddy?"

He pursed his lips, sinking lower into his seat. "No," he said sullenly. "How could she _do _this to me? I _tried _to make up for my behaviour the other night and now she turns up with _Stuart _looking like…like…"

"The best she's ever looked?" Leonard offered, and held his hands up defensively when Sheldon glared at him. "I'm just saying maybe you need to _tell _her—"

"I don't need to tell her anything," Sheldon snapped, folding his arms over his chest. "And even if I did, it wouldn't make any difference…"

Leonard frowned. "How so?"

"She's _Raven_," he said, by means of an explanation. "Amy _is Raven _and that means—" He stopped dead as he spotted her once again, following Penny straight toward their table. There were no men trailing behind her—no signs of her being man-handled in any way—and he let out a sigh of relief.

"Just talk to her," Leonard said quietly, and grinned as Penny slipped alongside him. "Miss Ivy…care for a dance?"

"Of course," she said happily, and the two moved off into the crowd once again, leaving Sheldon to sit alone. _Fantastic…_

Stuart had somehow materialised from nowhere and—much to his delight—was currently being turned down for a dance by Amy. To his surprise, she swept her way around the table and pulled out the chair beside him, barely acknowledging his presence. In one swift motion, she unclipped the cape from around her neck and hung it loosely over the back of her chair, revealing the skin-tight dress painting her figure underneath it. The cape had previously shrouded her overly exposed figure and now…well, now every Spandex-wrapped curve was on display for all to admire. He felt his mouth go dry. _Since when had her bust been so ample?_

She took her seat next to him. "I trust that you received my message last night," she said evenly, gloved hand reaching out for a glass of wine.

His mind reeled, pulling away as quickly as possible from the lure of her form mere inches away. "I did," he said finally, remembering the lewd response he had received from her the evening prior. "I'll have you know that when this night is over, there will be a strike on your record—"

"Penny wrote it," she interrupted, crossing one leg over the other.

He felt his face flare with colour as he ran his eye up the naked skin. "Makes sense," he managed. "I was only trying to correct the situation that had occurred during our Date Night and you were being impossible."

She took a long sip of her champagne. "I wasn't being impossible," she said. "I was reacting in accordance with the severity of the situation."

He didn't like her choice of words, he didn't like her calm, collected nature, and he didn't like her general lack of response. Not one bit. "Amy," he said darkly, "I'm finding that you are being impossible _now_."

She chewed her lip lightly before she responded, and he felt his stomach turn. _Breathe, Cooper. _"I think you will find that I am remaining true to character," she said, looking over at him. "Isn't that what you would have wanted?"

"No—well, yes but—" He ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. "There are things we must discuss, Amy, and after your behaviour tonight I feel I might have to…"

Right in the middle of his sentence, she uncrossed her legs and recrossed them, allowing the portion of fabric hanging loosely to fall between her thighs. _Oh my God._

"What?" Amy prompted, white eyes tearing him to ribbons. "Spank me again?"

His gaze was captivated by the apex of those milky thighs, and he begged his hind-brain to retreat and make way for an intelligent answer. Neither occurred. _Damn alcohol…_

"Fairest _Raven,_" a voice boomed from behind them, and Sheldon groaned when yet another suitor appeared at her side, dressed entirely in silver armour. "Will you give me this dance?"

Sheldon felt something snap inside him as she turned toward the idiot. "She will not give you anything—she's _mine_," he said, standing to tower over him. "Now off with you, fool!"

The knight slouched his shoulders and slunk away. "What are you even supposed to _be_, anyway?" Sheldon called after him. "Moron…"

"Yours?" Amy said quietly, rising from her spot. She smiled furtively and began to move away, but Sheldon caught her wrist firmly. He stared at her and begged his mind to form words—it was futile. "If there is something you wish to say, Sheldon, please do."

"Fine," he growled, and closed the space between them, his lips at her ear. "Drop this act, _now_."

She breathed shallowly, and he considered that somewhat of a feat. "You must accept me as I am," she whispered in return, her words hot on his neck. "It is too dangerous to express how I truly feel."

"Risk it," he murmured, feeling his heart rate soar between them. _What has she done to me?_

"I mustn't—"

"I know you _mustn't_," he said heatedly, "but _can_ you?"

The _Raven's _beautiful face turned up to him, lips grazing his ear before she stole away. "Can _you?_"

* * *

She was doing a deal with the devil—a dangerous deal.

The sear of his stare burned into her back as she slipped away, breathing hard and heavy. If he followed, there was no turning back, and she was _so close_—so close to getting what she wanted; so close to bringing him to his knees.

She was doing a deal with the devil, but it didn't matter, because tonight she was one, too.

* * *

The moment she moved into the secluded hallway just outside the conference room, he pounced. _I'll show her…_

She gasped when he pinned her against the wall, using a force he wasn't aware that he possessed, and crashed his lips against her own—a short, rough connection that sent jolts between them and coursed through his entire body. He felt her press back with matched intensity, moving those ruby lips against his own, and found he had not a care in the world in those brief few moments—all that mattered was having her.

He broke away, chest heaving. "A room, _now_," he rumbled, glad for the liquid courage he had devoured moments earlier. "I know you have one, vixen."

She nodded, and he felt himself harden at the sight of her swollen mouth. "Okay," she whispered, and led him away from the noise, the curious eyes—away from _everyone_.

They moved quickly up two floors—up an elevator crammed with patrons and through cream-coloured hallways—allowing him barely enough time to consider what he was doing. Amy hastily jammed the key card into the slot of her hotel room door and he flung it open from behind her, slamming it shut just as fast. Just like the first time, he did not hesitate in kissing her all over again, trying his hardest to allow his instincts to guide him. The softness of her lips, the power she wielded over him so easily, was just as _fascinating _as it had been the very first time.

She tossed the key across the room and looped her arms around his neck, pulling him in deeper. The very tip of her tongue grazed his, and suddenly he _couldn't stop_. No amount of string theory, no amount of Kohlinar, was _ever _going to sway this feeling—and nor would he want it to. She tasted as sweet as chocolate and as fresh as peppermint and he wondered idly: _why did I wait so long? _

Pulling away, she peppered his jaw with tiny pecks, working her way down his neck. He realised that they were—once again—pinioned against a wall, the painting behind them knocked off-centre in their passion, and his hands were lingering on her ribcage, grasping her as though she would disappear. One kiss to a particularly sensitive spot beneath his ear had him gasping for air. "_Amy_…"

She pressed the length of her body against him, and he yelped as the pressure against his crotch mounted. A giggle sounded from her, and he scowled, spinning them so she was facing the wall. "Are you happy?" he asked her hoarsely, grasping handfuls of her hips between his fingers. "You've won."

He crept his hands up her torso and lightly outlined her breasts with his palms. She moaned—the sweetest sound he'd ever heard. "Only as happy as you are," she said seductively, and pressed that backside straight back against him. _Good God…_

"You," he said, turning her around and kissing her, hard, "have made me do this." He kissed her again, walking her back toward the bed. "You," another kiss, "have ruined my composure." And another. "My control," he pushed her back, "is gone." He unzipped his leather jacket and dropped it to the floor. "And now," he crawled over her, "I want you, _badly_."

She let out an odd sound—somewhere between a coo and a breath—as he sank between her open knees and kissed her over and over. He could feel her hands working their way under his white singlet, skimming over his muscles and lighting his skin on fire, creeping lower and lower until they reached his buckle. Before she could unlatch it, he sat back. "It's my turn," he told her, and looked down at the dishevelled beauty sprawled beneath him. Two white eyes stared up at him, and he pointed at them. "Those—out."

Turning away, she fiddled for a moment and set them aside carelessly on the nightstand, and then looked back at him. The sight of her emerald eyes had his breath catching in his throat—wide and dilated, desperate for _him_. She knelt up slowly, greeting him readily in the middle of the bed, and snatched at his belt, unhooking the buckle with ease. Her eyes wandered downward, assessing the predicament straining the denim of his jeans, and she drew her palm across it.

He moaned—a guttural, primal sound. "Dear _Lord_…"

To his surprise, she didn't force the pants over his hips. Instead, she peeked up at him coyly and reached behind her back, and he heard the distinct sound of a zipper release. One glove, and then a second, were slipped off her hands, and she peeled the dress away from her neck and down her shoulders. It became very evident, very quickly—when her pale collarbones were completely bare—that there was absolutely _nothing _covering her chest beneath the snug ensemble. "Wait," he uttered, as she shed the long sleeves away from her arms and held the garment to her chest. She stilled, and he stepped off the bed, stripping off his singlet and then his jeans. When he was done, he moved to the edge of the bed and—with a shaky breath—took her hands away from her bust. The slippery fabric fell to her waist without qualm, and he gaped at the pert fullness she was hiding beneath her clothes each and every day.

"You've seen them before," she said softly, and he could feel her watching him.

They were so…_sensual_. He subconsciously licked his lower lip. "This is different," he said gruffly, and reached out a hand to cup one. An airy gasp took hold of her, and—with confidence—he tweaked a nipple between his fingertips. He re-joined her on the bed, latching his lips onto the other. _So different…_

The simple ministration seemed to be almost unbearable to her, as she pushed him onto his back; naked chest flushed and heaving. She detangled herself from her dress and threw it aside, hovering above him in nothing more than pair of simple black panties. "Oh," she said suddenly, and reached up to her hair, pulling away the dark wig to reveal her own brown hair, tied back neatly underneath. She loosened it from the hair tie and allowed it to tumble over her shoulders, and Sheldon felt himself redden at how the sight of her tented his underwear beyond imagination.

"I like the look of that," she muttered, kissing him again fiercely and moving her way down his chest. He tried, desperately, to restrain himself, but his hands wouldn't cease their wandering—over her breasts, her stomach, her ass. She gave him a naughty look as he squeezed it, and promptly hooked her fingers under the elastic of his underwear. She paused. "We don't have to do this," she said.

He grabbed her wrists and pushed them down, taking the bottoms with them. "I want to," he said simply. His erection sprung free and he watched nervously as Amy ogled it—standing long and at the ready. When her tongue darted out to moisten her lips he almost lost control then and there, managing to hold on instead with a twitch. She gently wrapped a single hand around his length and pumped once, then twice, and Sheldon threw his head back, stifling a groan. That was it; he wouldn't survive this night. She would be the complete and utter _death _of him.

Suddenly a wet warmth spread over the head of his length and he snapped his eyes open. Those blood red lips were puckered against him in a kiss, and panic filled his chest. Within no time at all, this was becoming _very real. _"Amy—you can't—the germs—"

"Do you trust me?" she said, cutting him off as she peered up at him with those breathtaking eyes.

His heart rattled his chest and the very beginnings of anxiety were pooling in his stomach, and it took all his effort not to launch himself off the bed and out the door. _But who am I tonight, if not the great Sheldon Cooper? The great _Wolverine_? _"I trust you," he said, nodding.

She smiled sexily back at him and wrapped her lips around him, capturing his first few inches in the space of her hot mouth. The sensation sent him soaring, especially when she began to move, sliding lower and deeper until he hit the back of her throat. He gasped like a mad man and tangled his hand in her hair as she sped up, suctioning and teasing until he was at the brink of release. "Amy," he breathed, "if you don't stop, this is going to end before it's begun…"

She drew away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and he noted that her eyes were almost black in the darkness of their hotel room. "On your back," he said, voice deep. When she didn't immediately oblige, he helped her along, tossing her onto the covers. She lay beneath him, slender legs splayed and hair tousled across the pillow. Brushing aside his fear, he kissed her furiously, trailing down her neck, to the dip of her collarbone, arriving finally at her right breast. He caught her nipple between his teeth, and licked and sucked at every inch of soft flesh he could find, before moving to the other. "I can't return the favour you gave me…I'm not ready," he told her honestly as she squirmed, "but I _can _do something else…"

His fingers moved down her waist and across her hipbone, and he traced the thin fabric of her panties, finding it wet. Whilst he was no expert on the subject, he was _certain _that this was a good sign. She whimpered as he applied pressure to the mound beneath her underwear, and quickly slipped beneath the flimsy cloth. "_Oh_," she panted, and he watched her—beyond aroused—as he delved amongst her heat. After a moment of teasing, he slid a long finger inside her and groaned himself, his erection twitching longingly. He had never imagined that she would be so tight, and that something so simple would drive her so wild. She fisted the sheets in her hands, gasping for air, and when he added a second digit her back arched off the bed like she were possessed.

It was now or never, and he couldn't wait any longer. He withdrew his fingers—coated in her yearning—and nearly tore her underwear from her body. The naked, vulnerable sight between his legs was almost enough to make him orgasm then and there, and he brushed his length along her inner thigh. "Can I?" he whispered, suddenly very aware that he didn't carry any form of protection. "We don't have any—"

She reached up, kissing him firmly, and wrapped her legs around his hips. "Take me, Sheldon," she purred in his ear. "Make me _yours_."

He made one tentative thrust forward and begun to bury himself inside her tight heat, sliding between her vice-like lips. _Everything _disappeared from his mind as a blinding pleasure overtook his senses, filling him with a carnal need to pound her into the mattress beneath them. He moaned loudly, nuzzling into her bust as he refrained from slamming forward as his body commanded. This was unbelievable, it was irresistible, it was…it was everything he'd ever felt, ever wanted to feel, and ever _would _feel, in one simple action.

"_Sheldon_," she groaned as she dug her nails into the skin on his back. "_Sheldon…"_

He was sheathed inside her to the hilt, and was vaguely struck by the need to check on her wellbeing. "Am I hurting you?" he asked, voice strained.

"It's alright," she said, answering his question clearly. He began to pull out, but she stopped him with her tangled legs. "Don't you dare," she chided, and ground her hips in a way that made him see stars. "Keep going."

He didn't need to be told twice. Framing his hands alongside her head, he withdrew and plunged back inside, relishing every single movement. He repeated the motion, more forcefully this time, and felt his chest swell with pride as Amy's eyes glazed over. "Do you like it?" he whispered, maintaining a steady, solid rhythm above her.

She unhooked her ankles from his back and rolled him aggressively onto his back, where he lay spread-eagled and at her mercy. "You could say that," she said, climbing atop him and positioning his hardness against her. She rolled her hips against the tip playfully, dipping in and out. "Do you?"

Frustrated, he grasped her hips and stilled them, squeezing her backside so hard that she winced. "You could say that," he replied, and she promptly impaled herself upon him. "Jesus," he swore, "_Amy_…"

She began to rock back and forth and up and down, her breasts jiggling at every move, and he sat up to drive deeper inside her. There was nothing, _nothing_, that could ever feel this good, he was certain. Rolling against him, she guided his hand between her thighs and rubbed the pads of his fingers against something hard and swollen between her lips. He pressed it roughly and she cried out. "_Yes…_"

"Faster," he mumbled into her neck, and she obliged, grinding against him. Before he could stop himself, he shoved her off him and re-entered her from behind, and not even the hint of shame that swept over him could overpower his hunger for her now. "Tell me," he panted between thrusts, "if I hurt you."

By the sound of her whimpers and moans, he was certain he was doing anything but that. She poised herself on her elbows and curved her spine up to him, giving him a view of her round behind as he drove into her. It felt so wrong, and yet so deliciously _right_, and he knew that she would have bruises blooming on her hips and perhaps a little pain between her thighs by the morning. "Sheldon," she said suddenly, looking back over her shoulder, "_please_…"

The sound of her begging was unbearable, and he encouraged her to move onto her back once more. When she looked at him curiously from below, he answered her unasked question. "I want to see you," he told her, and plunged back inside her.

A few sharp strokes with her knees spread wide and Amy cried his name, thighs trembling and muscles contracting around him. _"Sheldon!"_

That was all it took. He slammed into her one final time and his body exploded, coming harder than he had even imagined he could and pouring molten pleasure deep within her. He grunted and moaned, over and over, and lingered desperately in the hazy high he had escaped to, blind and sated. "_Amy, Amy_…"

Collapsing in a heap beside her, he puffed and admired her worn, naked body. All too quickly, he noticed the stickiness coating his skin, the sweat dotting her brow, and the presumable mess between her thighs. "Oh God, oh God…" he babbled, and began to sit up, but Amy gently pressed him straight back down.

"Relax, it's okay," she said calmly, and swung herself off the bed. "Wait here."

She disappeared, resurfacing moments later looking fresher and carrying a wet washcloth. "Here," she said, hand outstretched, and when he didn't take it, she started dabbing his skin in the precise areas he was concerned about. The cool, clean water soothed him, and he sat back, closing his eyes and reliving the adventure he had just taken. After quite a few minutes—and after she had nearly wiped his entire body—he took the washer from her and bundled her against him. She stilled, tentatively resting her head into the crook of his neck.

"_Vixen_," he murmured into her hair, and grinned as he watched her smirk against his chest. "_My _vixen."

* * *

In the early hours of the following morning, when Sheldon had his arm slung loosely around her nude torso and the sun was peaking hesitantly over the horizon, Amy gazed at the boy lying alongside him who had just become a man.

His hair—once curved into a messy set of almost devil-horns to suit his beloved superhero—was ruffled and his slept with a slight crease in his brow, although there was always an equation to be solved. She noticed, however, that the slight frown faded when he tugged her even closer, snuggling into the wisps of her hair and mumbling her name. Not a complaint had been heard since their completed intimacy—on the contrary; Sheldon had scooped her up and not let her go. Not even once.

It seemed, she assessed with a smile, that giving Dr Sheldon Cooper a taste of his own medicine was the perfect tonic to heal their matching ailment.

And this, she could say with confidence: mission accomplished.

* * *

_Author's Note: _He-he-he. Hope you all enjoyed…it was much, much fun to write (isn't a short and sweet smut fic always fun?). Of course, I could have turned this into a million chapters and gone on and on but really...all I wanted to accomplish was some kick-arse Amy and desperate Sheldon. And of course...some naughty scenes.

Thank you all so much for reading and thank you for the incredible support…the feedback has been tremendous for such a little fic! Bye for now, and don't forget to review!

Lauren


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